Walls of Steel
by m.o.c.k.i.n.g.b.i.r.d xox
Summary: an EowynAragorn romance..... but how does it end? UPDATED chapter four n five up!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Hey guys! Thanks for reading my fic- just so you know,I don't own any of this stuff-all of the chracter and place names belong completely to J.R.R Tolkein. Enjoy the story!

btw: (these bits of the story are taken straight from the movie _The Two Towers_)

* * *

Éowyn, White Lady of the Rohirrim, wandered idly through the night, allowing her feet and the swift breeze to lead her, leaving the great golden city of Edoras and embracing the vast wild plains of the Riddermark. The mountaintops were capped with fresh snow, and a delicate frost lay on the ground, but her bare feet felt no cold and the white wool of her dress enveloped her body in warmth. 

Her gait was swift and smooth, and her mind, for once, at peace, for already she had devised her plan. She would fight with her people, and go to Gondor's aid even if it should cost her life. Dernhelm, for a while, would be her name, and, disguised as a man, she would ride with the Rohirrim, swift on the back of the great grey steed Winfola, horse of kings, to prove her quality to all.

Straight-backed and endlessly graceful, she seemed to glide, golden hair lifting in a gentle breeze, away from the city of her people and into the wilderness of the lands to which she belonged. A golden arc of light lay about the feet of the mountains and the air was dense with the smells of the early morning, the quiet that had become so rare in these troubled lands broken only by the sound of the sword at her side.

Her thoughts wandered to the Ranger Aragorn, and her eyes grew bright in the darkness. His image was vivid in her mind, tall, wild and wise with many winters, a pillar of strength to the race of men, and a man who, even when she first saw him, appeared to have wholly captured her heart, warming its cold steel with a love she had felt for no other.

She came to a small rivulet, winding its way through the barren, striking beauty of the plains. At her touch, the water was cold as ice, but refreshed her as she splashed it onto her face. The water played joyously in the small stream, and her heart fluttered as a new feeling of delight touched her. Drawing her sword from its scabbard at her side, she stood and began a dance of war with invisible enemies, striking and parrying as her agile feet danced over the dewy grass and her spirit seemed to leave her body and run free and wild across the plains.

* * *

("_Edra le men, men na guil edwen... haer o auth a nîr a naeth."_

"Why are you saying this?"

"I am mortal. You are elfkind. It was a dream, Arwen, nothing more.")

Aragorn woke, suddenly cold, as a breeze penetrated the room. The fire had extinguished, and it was dark in the small hours of the morning. His companions still slept, Gimli snoring contentedly, Legolas lost in dreams of the wooded lands of his home.

He walked to the balcony, breathing in the fresh air of the new winter, and rubbed his face with his hands, his mind and heart lingering on his dream.

("_.. Our time here is ending. Arwen's time is ending…"_

_"…… Let her go ……"_)

Aragorn shook his head, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, trying to escape the whispers in his head. Resting his elbows on the stone rail of the balcony, he gazed vaguely into the distance. A flash of white caught his sight and he leaned forward. A figure danced spiritedly by a small stream, and a sword flashed in the figure's hand. Catching his breath, he leaned forward. This could be only one of two things, an elf or else some spirit, for he had seen no man, not even one of the Dúnedain such as himself, move with such grace and agility as this figure did. He watched, entranced, as the figure ducked and weaved and spun endlessly until his eyes blurred with tiredness. Seized by a sudden thought, he grabbed his sword and, briefly splashing some water on his face from a pitcher, he dashed out of the door and moved with purpose through the city and onto the plains.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Hey guys! Thanks for reading my fic- just so you know,I don't own any of this stuff-all of the chracter and place names belong completely to J.R.R Tolkein. Enjoy the story!

* * *

Even as her heart soared with exhilaration, Éowyn grew tired and, sheathing her sword, she moved to the water and drunk deeply, splashing more on her face and. lying by the coursing rivulet, she gazed up at the stars until her eyes ached and she succumbed to sleep, soothed by the sound of the water.

* * *

Aragorn came swiftly and softly to the stream, his eyes ever searching for the figure he had seen from the balcony. The white of Éowyn's dress caught his eye and he peered through the darkness, barely perceiving the gold of her hair with his Ranger's eyes. Smiling to himself, he came closer and bent to the ground. She lay on the frosty grass in nothing but a woollen dress, without shoes, and it seemed, in sleep, that she finally felt the bitter cold of winter, for she trembled violently and her face was troubled. The hand near her head curled as she shifted slightly onto her side, lost in dreams of terrible things. 

Her beauty struck Aragorn then as it never had before, as did the cares that haunted her. The cold steel of her heart seemed to melt before his eyes, and she seemed vulnerable and small as her ghosts overcame her defences and ran free over her tortured mind.

He could not stand to watch her suffer so, for a new love had overcome him and he looked on her as a sister, one whom he must protect with his life. He lay alongside her, moulding his body onto hers, and held her as she trembled like one who is dying. He held her and held her, until her body melted into his and her cares became his own. His heart was overcome as it beat in time with hers, and he pulled her closer, enveloping her in his arms, breathing in the soft smell of her skin- like snowdrops on a young morning of spring.

He felt her soft breath on his chest, and as he looked on her face, so cold, so fair, it seemed to him that she smiled softly, though it passed in a heartbeat and she resumed her trembling as the monsters she held in her heart overcame her once more.

He ran a finger delicately through her hair, lying upon the banks of the stream like spun gold. He traced the line of her jaw and stroked her temple with his thumb, whispering to her in the sweet tongue of the elves. He watched her face, watched her eyes flutter beneath her lashes as she slept, and wished more than anything that he could relieve her of her cares, though he knew it was not within his power to do.

So the hours passed, and as the golden light crested the hillsides, Aragorn fell himself into deep, untroubled sleep as the whispers in his own heart left him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: Hey guys! Thanks for reading my fic- just so you know,I don't own any of this stuff-all of the chracter and place names belong completely to J.R.R Tolkein. Enjoy the story!

(The Song of Beren and Luthien - Chapter XI_, The Fellowship of the Ring_, by J.R.R Tolkein )

* * *

Éowyn woke softly in Aragorn's arms, and , disoriented, looked into his face with surprise. He pulled her closer to him, shifting his head slightly on the grass. Her heart ached as she watched him, and the love she held for him deepened. For a moment, she felt content as she had not done for a long time as she allowed herself, only for a moment, to believe that it was her that he dreamed of. She sighed slightly, cupping his chin and stroking his cheek with her thumb, and burrowed her face more deeply into his chest, letting his soft smell envelop her, letting the bliss overcome her, the forgetting she had longed for so long.

* * *

Aragorn opened his eyes in the sunlight and felt the immediate emptiness left in the absence of Éowyn's body in his arms. He rolled over in the soft grass, damp from the frost that had melted in the sun, to the sight of Éowyn, practicing once more with her sword, dancing in pure joy with light, agile footsteps. Her skill dazzled him as he watched in awe, the reflected light of the sword blinding him, as his heart soared to see her so happy. Her laughter broke out, like chimes in the wind, and she smiled vibrantly in the light of the new morning, as her golden hair flew about her head like a bright halo in the sunshine. She darted forward, stabbing skilfully at her invisible foe. The battle ended and Éowyn replaced her sword, turning to drink at the stream. 

Catching sight of Aragorn, propped up on his elbow and watching calmly, she started, and for a moment Aragorn saw a glimmer of fear in her eyes, though it passed in an instant and she smiled swiftly, hiding her feelings from him.

"You have much skill with a blade," he said, smiling warmly, " and your dancing seems rivalled only by the magic of the elven maid Tinúviel.'

Éowyn's face softened, her long, willowy frame relaxing. She held her head to one side inquisitively.

'The name means 'nightingale' in the Quenyan tongue,' said Aragorn, sensing her curiosity.

'Quenyan?'

'That is High Elvish, for Lúthien Tinúviel was a princess of the Elven folk, beloved not only by her people but by all who looked on her. Of all the children of this earth, there have been none so fair, and nor will there ever be, until the passing of this world.'

He paused, gazing into the dancing water of the rivulet, his eyes clouded over., and Éowyn sat on the grass with her back against a lone tree, cross-legged, like a child listening to a favourite story.

Hesitantly, she ventured, 'What happened to her?'

'…. She died,' he said softly, 'She loved a mortal man, Beren son of Barahir, and for him she sacrificed her immortality, dooming herself to death. And so the greatest treasure of the Elves was lost to them forever, and they began to fade into darkness.'

There was a brief silence, before Aragorn began:

('The leaves were long, the grass was green,  
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,  
And in the glade a light was seen  
Of stars in shadow shimmering.  
Tinúviel was dancing there  
To music of a pipe unseen,  
And light of stars was in her hair,  
And in her raiment glimmering.

There Beren came from mountains cold,  
And lost he wandered under leaves,  
And where the Elven-river rolled  
He walked alone and sorrowing.  
He peered between the hemlock-leaves  
And saw in wonder flowers of gold  
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,  
And her hair like shadow following.

Enchantment healed his weary feet  
That over hills were doomed to roam;  
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,  
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.  
Through woven woods in Elvenhome  
She lightly fled on dancing feet,  
And left him lonely still to roam  
In the silent forest listening.

He heard there oft the flying sound  
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,  
Or music welling underground,  
In hidden hollows quavering.  
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,  
And one by one with sighing sound  
Whispering fell the beachen leaves  
In the wintry woodland wavering.

He sought her ever, wandering far  
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,  
By light of moon and ray of star  
In frosty heavens shivering.  
Her mantle glinted in the moon,  
As on a hill-top high and far  
She danced, and at her feet was strewn  
A mist of silver quivering.

When winter passed, she came again,  
And her song released the sudden spring,  
Like rising lark, and falling rain,  
And melting water bubbling.  
He saw the elven-flowers spring  
About her feet, and healed again  
He longed by her to dance and sing  
Upon the grass untroubling.

Again she fled, but swift he came.  
Tinúviel! Tinúviel!  
He called her by her elvish name;  
And there she halted listening.  
One moment stood she, and a spell  
His voice laid on her: Beren came,  
And doom fell on Tinúviel  
That in his arms lay glistening.

As Beren looked into her eyes  
Within the shadows of her hair,  
The trembling starlight of the skies  
He saw there mirrored shimmering.  
Tinúviel the elven-fair,  
Immortal maiden elven-wise,  
About him cast her shadowy hair  
And arms like silver glimmering.

Long was the way that fate them bore,  
O'er stony mountains cold and grey,  
Through halls of ireon and darkling door,  
And woods of nightshade morrowless.  
The Sundering Seas between them lay,  
And yet at last they met once more,  
And long ago they passed away  
In the forest singing sorrowless.')

* * *

Finishing his song, Aragorn turned to Éowyn. She sat upon the ground in peaceful silence. Her head rested against the trunk of the tree, her eyes closed, her face calm, a small smile playing on her lips as the sun warmed her face. Sighing, she opened her eyes. Seeing his eyes upon her, she sprung upright, her defences up around her heartonce again, and glared at him, fingering the hilt of her sword in its scabbard. There was hurt written all over Aragorn's face, but she did not relent, and stared at him, her face hard and cold as ice. 

'You are proud and strong, a wild shieldmaiden of the North. Théoden underestimates you.'

'He means well.' Éowyn replied swiftly, 'He cares too much to see me come to harm.'

Aragorn rose, and held her hands in his.

'He is not alone, Éowyn. There are many who love you.'

She tore her hands out of his as anger flashed in her eyes, her heart flashing back to its exterior of steel, protecting the weakness that was there.

'Then they would do well to let me free,' she replied fiercely, and looked away. 'I am expected in the Hall.'

With this, the Lady Éowyn turned and ran across the plains towards the city, and let the steel walls of her heart come down once more, as tearsran freely down her cold, pale cheeks.

* * *

'…… _it was a dream, Arwen, …… nothing more…….'_

Aragorn stood still, his heart breaking for the pain of this lost maiden of Rohan, as he watched the white of her dress and the gold of her hair streak across the plains, towards the shadow that lay over the city, and it seemed to him that, as Éowyn left him, he fell prey once again to the whispers that haunted him.

He looked down at the stream. The first of the snowdrops had pushed its way up, quivering in the winter breeze.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a fire in her eyes. It burned in her heart; branded the sight before her forever on her soul as she looked out on the bloodied fields, suspended for a moment from the battle, entranced by the death that surrounded her. As fear smouldered in her heart, as she looked upon her falling brothers, she felt remorse as she had never experienced it before. It crippled her, dissolving her stubborn courage for the barest of moments. Her steed reared up as sparks flew around him, nearly bucking her in his frenzy.

'Easy, easy,' she whispered softly in his ear. Seconds later, he collapsed beneath her, shuddering, his back legs hewn by a foe she had not seen. Clambering off his back, she whispered softly to him in his pain. Swiftly she eased it with her sword. As tears flew down her cheeks, she pushed the grief back, forcing herself calm, and she stood tall in her heavy armour. She faced her enemies, the noise engulfing her, sweeping her up into the heat of the fight.

She could not know how long it had been before they appeared; winged death, wreathed in black, crying their evil to the world below. As confusion raged around her, all came to a halt, stared up into the sky; blocked their ears against the overwhelming wave of brutal sound that greeted them.

* * *

A while away on the plains, the proud King of Rohan reared up on his horse.

'Fight! Fight Eorlingas! Do not let your strength fail you now!'

His horse wheeled round in a frustrated circle as it attempted to get away from this new fear that had accosted it. Rising up in the saddle, Théoden bore his sword before him. The wraith stood, relinquishing the reins of the beast that bore him. The Witch King stood before his fearless pray, sitting strong before him on his proud white steed. In one swift movement, he struck, brandishing his mace, striking hard in his horse's flank. The steed reared once more in pain, throwing his rider to the ground. The king fell hard, soon crushed by the steed that had borne him forth. His body broken, he slipped into darkness.

* * *

Eowyn ran to her uncle's side and looked briefly on his face. She had never seen him look so old and tired in her life. And yet it seemed that for a moment, as she looked on his face, his peaceful strength touched her more deeply than ever.

The fire in her heart rekindled andher eyes burned as she turned to the demon that had taken her uncle.

It stood before her on the plains. She felt the creature's hot, rancid breath on her face and it turned the blood in her veins to ice.

'You will not have him,' she declared, her voice steady, her stubborn spirit getting the better of the fear that bordered on her mind. She held her sword with a steady hand and stood in front of her broken uncle's body.

_You fool. No man can kill me._ The mace swung from the shadows, striking her shield. Her bones splintered beneath the blow, but she would not cry out. She fell backwards in pain. The Witch King strode forward, towering above her delicate form as she struggled to stand, ignoring the pain of her arm. She thought of her uncle, her only father figure, the man who cared for her more than any other, and her heart hardened as the fire streaked down her sword arm. She thrust hard into the blackness beyond the cold steel of the helmet, crying out in rage.

'I am no man,' she said slowly, pulling off her helmet with her good arm; her gold hair falling in a sheath about her shaking shoulders. Her arm stabbed with pain and ice crept up from her sword. It dissolved to the hilt and she dropped it to the ground as her body succumbed to the pain that sought to engulf her. Knees collapsing beneath her, she fell upon her fallen foe, the gold of her hair about her head like a halo. Darkness took her swiftly and she shivered in a world full of cold dark shadows. The fire extinguished, doused in the ice cold waters of oblivion.


	5. Chapter 5

A mist lay about the Houses of Healing. Aragorn strode through the rooms, saddened by the cries of the dying and the grieving.

'My Lord, your help is required. We have a maiden here, greatly wounded. We will need your assistance.'

He followed the nurse willingly, winding a path through the many raised platforms, on which lay the bodies of the wounded. A glint of gold caught his eye in the darkness. His heart suddenly gripped by a fear he could not describe, his pace slowed as he stopped at her bed and looked on her face, pale as death. He stood suspended for a moment, caught in a second of overwhelming shock and watched her pale beautiful face for a sign of life. Laying a hand on her chest, he shivered in the new cold that overcame him and a tide of joy hit him as he felt it rise slightly beneath his touch. Falling to his knees on the stone, he held her cold hand to his face, closing his eyes in relief.

'My Lord Aragorn…' the nurse's voice was soft, laden with wisdom. Many times had she witnessed the pain of the grieving.

'Yes,' he replied, his voice sounding like it was being dragged out from the depths.

'Please, we must hurry. The Black Breath is thick in her.'

'There is no doubt of the evil that grips her. I do not know how long I may hold off the darkness. I shall need the athalas plant; perhaps you know it as kingsfoil, a bowl of steaming water and clean cloth.'

He never removed his eyes from her face. Cradling her face in his hand, he let tears flow from his eyes.

'Eowyn, how came you here? You are too fair, too loved to leave me now. Please; fight for me. Please. Eowyn….'

Her head shifted slightly on the pillow, a frown creasing her handsome face, drenched in sweat from the fever that ravished her trembling body.

'Eowyn….'

She heard his voice through a blanket of pain, its warmth overwhelming even as the tendrils of cold wrenched at her heart in the darkness. Dreams overcame her once more, echoes of terror storming her mind.

'Eowyn….'

Slowly, ever so slowly, like a heavy curtain easing open, the darkness lifted, her eyelids lifting to reveal a world of white. She shivered slightly in a breeze. Voices spoke around her; blurred noises that meant nothing to her. At her side, a man sighed in relief, a quiver in his voice as he spoke her name.

She shifted her head, looking on his face as tears flowed freely down his cheeks. He leaned over, his head in his hands, shaking.

Softly, a small smile crept onto her face. His name emerged as the softest whisper, but he heard it and raised his head. Kneeling by the bed, he took her hand, cradled her body in his arms as he shook with sobs.

'Eowyn, my sister.'

Her brother held her in his arms for longer than she could tell, rocking her as he once had when they were young. Lying back now on the soft pillows, she let the soft white sheets envelop her.

As Eomer released her, Eowyn noticed, with a jump in her heart, Aragorn sitting silently by her bedside, opposite her brother. He too had tears flowing down his face, and seemed barely able to control the smile that shone in her heart. He took her hand and her heart fluttered as it once had

'My dear Eowyn, you have made me happier now than I have ever been. I felt sure, for a moment, that the darkness would never relinquish you. Such was the evil that kept you from me. And such is my love for you, and your brother's, that the darkness was beaten back, though perhaps we must admit that your stubbornness also had much to do with it.'

Eomer laughed shakily behind them, but Eowyn realised nothing. She succumbed completely to the whispers in her heart as she summoned all her strength to reach up and cup his cheek in her hand. She smiled, the cold steel walls of heart melting at last as she gave up the pretence. He looked at her a moment, taking her outstretched hand in his and holding it to his chest as he warmed her shivering fingers. All else faded to oblivion as Eowyn's joy overwhelmed her, fending off the dull, groggy pain that still played at her. Seeing at once the depth of her fatigue, Aragorn stroked her cheek softly, whispering to her as she let sleep overcome her. Her last memory was Eomer placing a thick woollen blanket about her as Aragorn bent to kiss her forehead, before her eyelids crashed shut.

Aragorn lay in his bed in the Houses, staring at the ceiling. How could it be, that his eternal love had sailed away from him forever and left behind such a vacuum that could only be filled by his new love for another, strong and whole and full of promise, like that fist morning of spring after the harsh winter. In his heart of hearts, Aragorn knew now that Eowyn for him this long hoped for springtime, this promise of a happy life that once he had seen in Arwen. Love, which he had thought had long forsaken him, kindled now in his soul. He needed only to be near her and, rising swiftly from his bed; he crept down the halls towards her chamber.

The door creaked open, the sound registering dimly on the edge of her mind. She opened her eyes a crack as the dull outlines of a tall figure crept to her bed, sitting momentarily on the end before softly, slowly, so as not to wake her, edging towards the pillows and lying beside her. She recognised the scent of his skin, the evenness of his breathing, the way his heart seemed to beat in perfect time with her own. Swiftly, she turned on her side to face him, and she saw the crinkles that formed round his eyes as he smiled at her in the darkness. They joined together, rejoicing in each other's embrace, looking into each other's eyes, holding each other until the young hours of the morning were long past and strips of bright light fell softly on the sheets.


End file.
